Dragon Captain Ushujaa
by Zombie Cat Scientist
Summary: Harry dies, time travels, becomes a pirate who frees slaves, and a dragon. Sometimes, he thinks life must really hate him. content note: Contains depictions of violence and slavery.
1. Chapter 1

**Ushujaa - **Heroism, Bravery

* * *

><p><em>Basic Premise: <em>Harry Potter ends up in the era of the Napoleonic Wars- as a dragon animagus!

_Warnings: _Contains spoilers, obviously. And adult/upsetting subject matters, though it is not romance centered. Rather, the warning is for slavery, potential forced breeding, and violence.

umhlengi - savior/rescuer (zulu)

asante sana - thank you (swahili)

msaada - help

joka la hadithi - dragon

uhuru - freedom

shuja - hero

_**Background**_: Set in 1805 in the middle of the Napoleonic Wars, not long after the HMS Temeraire fought in the battle of Trafalgar in October- the same eponymous ship that the dragon (and book series) is named after. In 1807, Britain outlawed slavery, but the trade is declining somewhat from the wars already. It is still going strong in other countries, particularly the Americas though controversy there is already brewing. Louisiana has already been purchased from the French and Haiti won its freedom and declared itself independent a year ago (1804).

Temeraire the Dragon is about 20-30 or so tons at adulthood, a heavy-fighter class. The biggest Harry Potter dragon, the Ironbelly, in comparison is only 6 tons at most and would barely be considered a light-weight fighter, though the length I'd suspect would make it look like a larger dragon as I think J.K's dragons are slightly lighter weight than their Temeraire equivalent- even taking that into account though they'd still be small. Dragons below 6 tons are usually couriers and very looked down upon in the Temeraire universe. However, fire breathing is a very rare ability and one the British Side dragons do not possess. Oh, and they don't have magic either.

I do not really have enough history to write this out with as much attention as it might deserve, if it deserves any attention at all, so I will probably not write more than a one shot or a few chapters; certainly I don't think I'll write out a full 40,000+ word story. It is merely to settle my curiosity a bit on the subject and give me a little motivation to study history.

Thank you to the reviewer who pointed out the typo I had at one point where I wrote 1905 and skipped a century, whoops!

* * *

><p>The battle against Voldemort didn't go well.<p>

It was a tired saying, one that had been said many times, but it was true no matter how worn out it was. In fact, it was rather understated. The Lord of Death, Harry Potter, in a rather embarrassing incident died; Voldemort after killing him the first time decided to be cautious and pragmatic, and kill him a second. The entire gamble, to let Voldemort kill him the first time, had been rather risky and dumb in the first place he reflected, and in hindsight it really wasn't that surprising that his luck had finally run out on him. In particular, he'd relied on a wand who's ownership had changed hands many times via death of the previous owner. Why he'd expected even that to stay loyal to him after being killed with it by Voldemort he had no clue anymore.

Except, of course, in death he still seemed to be capable of thinking those words. That didn't exactly make a great deal of sense, unless something had actually worked, and the wand had recognized him as an owner. It had given him a second chance.

But that just raised the big question. A second chance where? Where was he? Was that the sound of waves crashing? There were voices. They seemed strangely familiar, although Harry was certain he'd never heard them before in his entire life. His wand was still in his hand, so he couldn't have been captured by Voldemort... what was that weird pain in his lungs?

His eyes fluttered open, and he was immediately bombarded by the sight and feel of tons and tons of water rushing all around him. He was choking, drowning on water, and frantically struck upwards towards the light of the sun. He seemed lighter and more buoyant than he remembered, but that was really the furthest thing from his mind as he spat out water and gasped for air, clawing frantically at the sides of a boat. Scratch that, make that a very large sailing ship. What were one of those doing in this day and age?

Shouting alerted his ears, and he looked up, exhausted, still clutching his wand for dear life- although, now that he thought about it, it felt like it had shrunk. Looking down, he saw huge black, scaly arms seeming to reach down in front of him, and freaked when he realized they were attached to a large winged shoulder that belonged to- _himself_.

Blimey. He was a dragon. A dragon!

Shouting caught his ears, and he saw rows of men staring at him in concern. Feeling embarrassed, and hoping they weren't muggles, he was surprised when he realized they were throwing out ropes and trying to help him get aboard.

"Where's your rider? Man overboard!"

"I don't see any straps. I think it might be feral!"

"Someone send a pigeon to the Aerial Corps! Immediately!"

Rider? Huh. He realized it wasn't actually him they were throwing ropes for, and they still were gazing at him with fear, none of them willing to risk going down near the water with him in it. He couldn't recall any groups of wizards that were dragon riders, nor any group that preferred pigeons to owls, but they most certainly had to be wizards if they were familiar with dragons. Rising up, the black dragon beat his wet wings with great effort and clumsily managed to clamber up on to the deck. It was ill-suited to his size, but at least he fit without knocking any men off.

Feeling thankful for being rescued, even if it was only accidental and he'd mostly done the rescuing himself, he thought back to transfiguration. If he still had his mind in tact, that meant he was probably in an animagus form now. Not what he'd been expecting, and certainly not something he'd ever heard of happening in accidental magic, but theoretically he should be able to turn himself back into a man. Holding up his wand, he realized it was actually a piece of wood splintered off from the boat. Totally useless. No matter. Animagus practitioners didn't need their wand. Might have been nice for a complete beginner, though. He tried to shift- and instead felt his strange, unfamiliar but rather drab (for a dragon) body change to resemble a shape he faintly recognized. The horntail. Great. He'd managed to make the transformation more complete, rather than less. Just great.

"Do you have a name?"

He turned his head, to see the ship captain. Not sure if dragons could actually vocalize human sounds- maybe they were like birds- he gave it a tentative try. "I'm Harry Potter."

Hey, it worked. It seemed to greatly relieve the men aboard, too, although they still didn't seem to be happy about having a large dragon on their deck. "He's no feral," he overheard the captain say to another with cheer, before turning back to him. He guessed it was the captain since he was the one who originally addressed him and the one who'd shouted orders earlier to the men- plus from the way they were dressed. The man turned back to face him, smelling afraid to Harry's nose but putting on a brave face. "What happened to your captain? Were you headed on a mission?"

What? He was completely thrown and baffled by this conversation. "Captain? D'you mean Dumbledore? He was killed by Snape unfortunately. I was battling against the dark lord and I frankly can't remember how I ended up here or like this." He gestured with his claws to himself.

"Dark lord? Odd way to refer to Napoleon but I heartily approve." the man chuckled nervously, not really wanting to disagree with a dragon who could eat him in one bite. Actually, that was a bit of an exaggeration, Harry wasn't that large, it would take several bites. He could still nip the man's head off, though. "Snape, another dragon were they? Well, they aren't here now thankfully."

What? No. He was beginning to feel they really had to be muggles. Who else would not know who- wait, Napoleon? "What year is this?"

"1805. Nearing 1806 in a few months, if that was what you were worried about. It's the fine wane of October."

"And... where am I?" Great, he'd gone back in time.

"Eager to get back home, right?" the man said, himself looking eager for the answer to be yes. "We're sailing towards Britain from Africa's west coast as we speak. We'll be there in another two weeks, but I imagine you could fly there faster."

Oh. Well, that was better than a longer wait, he supposed. He shifted to examine himself, taking in his wings and tail. He did seem to a male Hungarian Horntail, around thirty feet long and around four tons. Not bad, he thought, though he was sure the female he'd fought had been larger. Come to think of it, he seemed to remember reading that the females were bigger in dragons in Magical Creatures and Where to Find Them.

"Ahem."

"What?" Harry glanced at him.

"Aren't you going to leave?"

Harry felt embarrassed. He didn't really know how to fly, but didn't want to outright say so. "I don't know the way." There, that was true enough. "I might get lost."

The man looked frustrated, then thoughtful. "We don't have enough food on board for you, but, if we brought you back there would be a reward, yes?"

Harry nodded. "That can be arranged. I'll happily pay you for your service." Merlin knew he had enough gold rotting away in his vault. Losing a chunk would be well worth it, and they could haggle later. And he was sure his friends would chip in too. Oh, crud. He just remembered, his friends were all in the future. And what if there wasn't even a Potter vault back in this time? Still, he'd work out something.

"Alright, I think I have a solution." the man brightened. "Are you hungry now?"

"I'm a little." He yawned. Mostly exhausted, really. Resting on the wood was not going to be comfortable, he realized, but it beat having nothing. Once he was rested maybe he could try shifting back to human again. And getting a wand. He wasn't sure how the Ministry would react to a time traveler in the shape of a dragon to boot.

"Bring out one of the slaves! We'll feed the savage to the dragon!"

"Wait, what?" his green eyes widened. It was with sheer disbelief that he watched the sailors bring up from below deck a struggling, terrified black skinned woman. Harry felt sick. 1805, he vaguely remembered from school now, had been during the transatlantic slave trade. He was pretty sure slaves getting fed to dragons wasn't part of the history books, though. No matter what time or body he was in though, he refused to eat a human being.

Except maybe-

Pissed, and feeling not entirely himself, Harry rose growling, and launched himself at the ship's captain. Horned head snaking out, the captain only had time to register shock before the wizard-turned-dragon chomped down on him and shook. All around, the slavers screamed, and with a strike of his very not-human tail appendage, send them flying off the deck.

It occurred to him that as a human, he'd never have taken delight into biting into a man and killing him, but it seemed the transformation had more affect on his mind than he'd thought. The raw taste was pleasing rather than disgusting, and he had to force himself to drop the meat- err, man. Turning, he slaughtered the crew left and right, who fell helplessly against him. A part of him couldn't help but feel this was justice, or at least karma, for men who made their living brutalizing weaker people to die from someone stronger killing them.

When he'd finished the massacre, he was covered in blood and more red than black. Looking back at the one remaining human who was still alive, he realized she was terrified and not at all understanding of what was going on. She probably expected him to eat her, and shouted "Msaada! Msaada!" when he moved his claw near her. With a neat slice, he cut her bonds.

She stared, shivering and slowly rose up her hands, staring at them. "Uhuru?" she whispered, disbelievingly, then looked up at him and smiled, tears whelming up. "Asante sana!" she thanked him, crying out with joy and bowing at his feet. "Asante sana joka la hadithi!" she repeated over and over.

Then, still shouting, she ran down below deck. Harry craned his long neck and peered below. The conditions were deplorable. It smelled hideously, men and women standing in their own waste, welts from beatings bleeding on their backs, the sick coughing relentlessly. There seemed to be no hope in their eyes, only shock as the woman went to free them. He caught some words exchanged, "Umhlengi," "Shuja" repeated, and it seemed to his ears that there were different languages being spoken here. He couldn't imagine all the families that must have been broken up...

And now he was alone in this god damned time, he shuddered. Friendless, and lost as sea. And in a body with instincts and a mind that had made him slaughter men without, he realized with horror, the slightest feeling of guilt whatsoever.

The woman reached back to him, smiling and pat him on the leg, eyes shining.

Well, maybe not entirely friendless and alone.

* * *

><p>Azizi and Chuma, a curly haired man, became his two new best friends in the lonely world. Only Chuma could speak English, but Azizi, the woman he'd rescued, confided using their translator that she had no family anymore. They were all dead, killed by disease, penalty for insubordination, or in the original conflict that had led to her capture.<p>

The lack of enough food on board for a dragon meant Harry found himself, with some reluctance, eating rather than tossing over board all the corpses. It made many of the ex-slaves afraid of him, but Harry felt it was the pragmatic choice. At least this way he wasn't wasting meat.

He learned that they were all muggles, without any magic at all. Chuma was intelligent, and using his memory of the direction they'd been going and educated guesses from the letters and devices left on the ship, they tacked their way against the winds and headed towards Britain. They simply had not enough supplies to reach anywhere else, or to go back home. All were extremely nervous about what would happen when they arrived, and Harry learned from Azizi that it was likely all of them, including Harry, would be taken. Dragons were treated a little better than slaves, but the penalty for eating the white men was sure to be death. Harry felt he was probably a fairly large dragon, and so could fight another dragon off, but the thought of facing multiple, with guns and bombs strapped to them to boot, gave him pause. Deep down, he still viewed himself as a British citizen too, and didn't really want to kill any more of them, particularly loyal ones who would normally be fighting against the tyrant Napoleon rather than chasing down a rogue man eating dragon. Especially since, he thought with annoyance, one could be his alternate timeline ancestor or something. The subject matter was rather confusing, more for someone like Hermione to think through that him. He was no good at that timey wimey stuff.

He was not, however, going to let anyone be enslaved on his watch. That was just intolerable. Even if he died in the attempt, well, Harry had died once already. It really wasn't so bad. He was honestly just surprised to be alive.

With all his efforts, he focused on the one thing that could save all of them. He focused on turning himself back into a human. Focusing on his shape, he asked it to 'snap back' to its natural form. It fought with him hard, but eventually his magic flowed and responded to his frustrations. Scales shrank and his hide turned white, much to the horror of his black companions, and he had a lot of explaining to do once he suddenly popped into the shape of a man. Particularly one who looked like one of the 'white demons'.

"Chuma, please tell everyone that I am planning to go out to shore once we get there, and get us new supplies. Those who wish to go on land can, those who want to sail back to Africa can, and those who want to..." he paused, trying to think of what he wanted to do with his life. "go somewhere else can say so any time." He might have to steal supplies, he thought, but hopefully there would be enough money on board to purchase some basic necessities. For one, he seemed to still be wearing his robes- oh, wait. He was being an idiot. He could steal the dead crew's clothes and wear them. Well, that solved one problem.

Chuma spoke to the other passengers, but seemed to take an awfully long time about it, more than was necessary just to translate a basic sentence. Harry stared suspiciously when Chuma looked back, grinning. "Some of us want to stay with you, and help rescue more slaves. The rest will go back to Africa and try to reunite with their families." Azizi nodded in agreement to this.

Harry almost choked on air in surprise, then realized they must have thought it was something he'd planned to do the entire time. "Of- o-of course." he stuttered.

The Dread Pirate Harry Potter. Kind of had a nice ring to it. Hmm, if more freed slaves shared similar mindsets to Chuma and Azizi, he could soon have an entire fleet of stolen slaver ships... Though, come to think of it, this ship wasn't very well equipped for running down or fighting with other ships in any way. It didn't even have any canons.

So, scratch that last part. Make it the Dread Pirate Dragon. With fire breath, he could set any pursuing ships on fire with ease, though it would be more useful to sell them for money to buy better quality ships. Was any ship fast enough to avoid dragons? That was the one thing to fear at this point, other dragons and their human... captains, was it? Strange name, almost made it sound like they had multiple riders or could carry whole crews, but that thought was ridiculous. Harry knew he himself could carry maybe six people at most. That thought was fairly strange, considering back in his old life he hadn't been capable of lifting anyone up into the air and flying off except on a broom stick.

It would probably take time to find a way back home, if he ever managed at all. Heck, he'd _died. _For all he knew, maybe he'd reincarnated as a dying dragon or something. A feral that just happened to be flying across the sea, maybe blown off course from a storm and lost. Stranger things had happened.

* * *

><p>When they arrived at port, Harry was nervous. He had no papers or anything, didn't even know it was needed, but it didn't take him long to find the ship's own papers. No one came to investigate them, to his relief when they arrived, and he went on shore and quickly made purchases. The different value of the pound, due to a lack of two hundred years of inflation, threw him at first. But he quickly adjusted. It was really the fact the only cargo and goods the ship carried being slaves that made things difficult. He couldn't sell the boat, but without anything to sell he couldn't possibly afford everything they needed for the first trip. In the end, he had to resort to thieving. He wasn't too good at magic without his wand, but he still could manage a few wandless accio's and apparation. The lack of Ministry of Magic popping down his door confirmed his suspicions that they didn't really exist here. At least, not in any form he'd recognize. He seemed truly and fully to be in an alternate world.<p>

They spent over a week docked, and in that time Harry tried to learn as much as possible as he could about ships and their operation, bluntly asking questions of sailors as innocently as possible and buying a book on the subject. He was a little disturbed to realize Moby Dick, the only sea novel he could think of off the top of his head, hadn't even been written yet.

Ready to leave the docks with his last armful of packages, he returned to find to a strange, burly man standing in front of his boat with several armed men trying to board. The ex-slaves, who he'd thought had known better, were standing up on the deck in plain view with their swords. "Woah, woah, what's going on here?" he exclaimed.

The big burly man whirled, furious. "You tell me! This is my brother's ship, and he hasn't called, and I come and find a bunch of nigs swarming around it loose!" Then he turned. "Men, recapture the slaves! They must have killed my brother and taken the ship!"

"Aye!" the men shouted, and climbed aboard. Immediately, the people on board started fighting and trying to push the men off, not at all eager to become slaves again.

Harry thought of excuses, like 'you must be mistaken', but knew the man probably wasn't stupid enough to mistake another boat for his brothers. His only friends and his crewmates were in trouble. He had to do something, and he couldn't fight with a sword to, well, save his life. He didn't like to change in front of people who might spread the tale, so he quickly stepped out of sight behind the shadow of another docked boat and shifted. This time, the transformation into the horntail felt natural, more natural even than his own human skin. With discomfort, he wondered if he might count as a human animagus rather than a dragon one now, changed by the shift in realities. With talking dragons, 'wizard' dragons wasn't quite as far fetched as it might seem, though magic still didn't seem to be normal here.

Bronze horns shining in the sunlight, he roared and took flight. To his satisfaction, men quickly scattered at the sound and at the sight of him swooping down on them. With a vicious crunch, he downed the burly man, once again not feeling nearly as much guilt as he expected to. That was two members of that family he'd murdered now.

A brave man swiped at him, managing to draw blood on his thick hide, and was quickly 'rewarded' by Harry swiping back at him with his own blade-like weaponry, his claws. With a sweep of his spiked tail, he impaled and threw men far through the air. Seeing all the remainder fleeing, he quickly flew back on the boat, wings cleaving the air with a bit more skill than when he'd first drawn himself out of the water half drowned a few weeks ago. "Quick, unanchor the boat!" he ordered. "Go!"

Azizi and the others, terrified and just as aware as him that they'd soon have more pursuers, complied quickly. Satisfied they were getting the ship out of the bay right, he beat his wings again, and rose. For the first time, he really soared through the air with mastery. Quidditch simply did not compare.

He could feel the wind cradling him, pressing against him, and the way the shifts of his body commanded it to turn him this way or that. This required real skill, not just the ability to urge a _magical _object to move how he willed and respond to command. It was with curiosity that he tried a few Quidditch moves, however, diving low and pulling up at the last instant, seeing how his body responded.

It was so easy to get lost in the joy, he almost forgot what he was doing. Keeping low to keep everyone from the whole country spotting him, he stooped and plucked valuables he spotted on the ground- barrels of clean water and beer in particular caught his attention. Turning, he went and dropped them on the boat. Ruthlessly, he went back and forth, reveling in his speed and confident in being able to return any time he wanted, grabbing all the foodstuffs they might need and keeping an eye out for new company. Sure enough, the alarm was being sounded and navy ships with actual guns were heading to intercept his ship. Speeding back, he dropped the last back of grain on the ship and flew to harass and distract the interceptors.

Maybe convince them to leave well alone, perhaps. These were not slavers, after all, but men who probably just thought there were a bunch of dangerous psychopaths with a dragon on the loose. Or at least, he hoped they weren't slavers. It would be extremely disappointing if everyone he met who looked like him kept slaves. Downright depressing, actually. He knew the situation would get better eventually, but, not very strangely, he found himself unable to wait. He didn't even know the date Britain stopped keeping slaves, his history lessons a fuzzy memory in his mind, not helped by his experiences of them being boring and stuffy and one of them being an undying ghost obsessed with repeating the Goblin Wars over and over again.

"Bug off!" he roared, hovering in the air for a moment above one ship, causing men to duck for cover in fear of being killed by a plume of fire or plucked from the air. "We-" when did it become a we? Oh well. "suffered at your hands, lost our homes and families, and we've taken our retribution. Be lucky it is so little. Leave us alone and we'll never come back to this port again!"

"The fell beast talks English! Maybe it is one of ours gone rogue!"

Not the reaction he'd been hoping for. With a huff of disgust he ripped their sails with his claws, but stopped when they aimed harpoons at him and shot bullets. Oh crud, they had actual anti-dragon weaponry. One bullet hitting him in the leg, he was forced to retreat, but was glad he'd at least slowed them.

He knew Horntails could breath fire, but as of yet hadn't figured out the mechanism for it himself. Maybe because humans couldn't breath fire. He sincerely hoped he didn't accidentally set the boat on fire after a sneeze or some such thing. Flying back, wincing in pain with every movement, he landed and cradled his injured leg.

Harry watched as they sailed away, even with the sails of their opponents ripped, barely escaping with their lives. Canonfire rocketed around them, but soon it grew more and more quiet, and less and less effort seemed to be made to grab them.

Victory. He closed his eyes, and licked his leg. Injured women and men nursed each other around him, and one crew member had died.

Well, more of a narrow draw, Harry supposed.

* * *

><p>From there, their rain of terror began. Sailing back towards Africa, they mercilessly slaughtered the slavers on the boats they encountered, freeing many people. Volunteers to help the effort increased, and they did indeed keep most of the boats they captured, as well as the money and goods that were on board. Most, however, were returned back to Africa's shores, and a lot of goods were used up simply in maintenance. The food the slavers had for slaves were not very good, a kind of awful gruel usually, sometimes force-fed to their unwilling subjects. Harry was feeling pretty glad he'd, even if he hadn't planned to, started this effort. At a shifty port, they sold some of the ships off and made a good deal of cash at last.<p>

Hey, being a pirate didn't pay so bad, especially being a successful pirate.

They captured a military naval vessel, one with orders to capture pirates like them, and made it into their new ship of operations- the prisoners were treated fairly and released back at land. With some of the prize money from all the loot they gained from stealing ships, they soon bought a second boat. This he gave to Azizi to command, figuring her pretty competent. Her crew were composed of men who didn't share the Western taboo of no women on board. Chuma he respectfully asked to stick with him, since otherwise he'd have no way to communicate. He was learning bits and bits, but it was coming slowly. Somehow, he got the feeling dragons as old as him weren't very good at picking up a new language, and turning back into a man was starting to feel stranger and stranger to him. Admittedly, it was more comfortable on ship to be a man than a dragon, and there was more food for a man, but for some reason his old face didn't feel like his own skin anymore. He guessed that maybe he really had been reincarnated, for whatever reason, into a dragon.

Harry did one thing quite happily, though. He started learning to fish, so he'd never have to eat anyone ever again. Being a man eater was starting to unnerve him, even if it was the fact it wasn't bothering him was the thing that was actually bothering him... If that made any sense. The young man wasn't sure it did.

The War meant one good thing. Britain wasn't about to waste sending other dragons after a rumor of a dragon freeing slaves any time soon, particularly a rogue dragon that would probably kill many men in any attempts to capture 'it'. But as soon as it let up a little, even a little, he knew he might have to start to worry. And the War wouldn't last many decades, either.

Even now, he risked death every day from enemy ships. Bullets, canons, harpoons, and the mild irritation of pepper shots launched at him, were the anti-dragon weaponry he had to worry about, though a canon would only hit him if he were sitting on his ship and not in the air as they could not be angled up well. As a dragon, he could take quite a few more hits than a human and it took more to deeply penetrate his hide, but it still didn't make it any more pleasant.

"Captain Harry, we've spotted a ship. The HMS _Reliant_, and, this is less expected, a French Ship. The _Amitie_."

He considered this new information. "They must have captured it. They won't be in any mood to chase us."

"Let them pass?"

"Let them pass."

It wasn't like he'd come to rue that decision, after all.

* * *

><p>Captain Potter was beginning to grow used to his life and the sea, and with his crew getting wilier at escaping authorities. They added more ships, and soon were a real band of pirates, though they often split up to be more affective in their marauding. Marauders, bizarre as it sounded, fighting and plundering for justice more than hard cash. He led his ship, which he named the <em>SS Uhuru, <em>or SS Freedom, and he himself was called by many of his companions The Great Dragon Captain Ushujaa. It was a rather flattering name, though less so when he realized it was because some of them felt uncomfortable with a White Man's name and that there might very well be a slaver Potter out there somewhere. The thought was not thrilling at all.

They were the only ones in the entire world who knew his secret, that he could turn into a man, though of late he hadn't felt the need or urge. There were plenty of shady ports that would happily trade with a black man or even woman, after all, and he felt comfortable letting Chuma or another handle it. They were good people, even if he didn't know them too well or their culture.

Trouble, however, seemed to really begin the day he first breathed fire.

They had been battling against another pirate crew, unaffiliated, and totally ruthless. One of his ships had actually been sunken, many lives lost, and in his rage he'd set fire to the other pirates. He'd started using the technique on other ships, and right after some survivors to tell the tale reached the shore, his life suddenly became nothing but constant trouble. More military vessels ganged up on his pirates than ever before, sinking his ships, and he found himself fighting a hard battle to try to keep those he'd begun to care about simply alive. More interested in sinking him than the ships though, they seemed to expend all their energies to try to, it felt like, kill him. Maybe the rumor had finally sufficiently spread, and the various European nations had decided they'd had enough. There was even one American vessel sent after him.

And shortly after that, came the dragons.

He managed to avoid them at first, fleeing before they managed to get a good look at him or he at them. He got the feeling some of the ships, skirmishing with him and then pulling away, had only been trying to pinpoint his location and distract him while the dragons got there. There was a lot, a whole lot of African Coast to sail on, and combing it for just a couple of pirate ships had to take more luck than effort. He had them split up, for everyone's safety. An unscrupulous fire-breather could take anyone out in minutes, he figured, setting the ships aflame.

Then it hit him. Port. Any slime bucket would sell them out instantly. If they'd got dragons stationed, even by chance at one of their favorite docks... they'd be screwed. But they hadn't a choice. One had to make land to drop off freed men and women, and make repairs. Supplies could be stolen at sea with luck, but that couldn't be counted on to give everything they wanted or needed. And no man wanted to live life without ever touching ground again. Since they'd chosen not to ransack the two ships from before, they were running a little low on water right now, ironic considering they were surrounded by sea. Also, some members were starting to show signs of scurvy. Vaguely remembering something about Vitamin C, Harry wanted to stock up on lemons and oranges. There were some benefits from being from the future after all.

It was with trepidation he had them make land on a British controlled African Island called Madeira, using a Haitian flag to keep them below immediate suspicion. It would explain why the company was made of almost nothing but free African men, and hopefully let them go without being to harassed. Things seemed to be going well.

Then, what should he spot but the military naval ship from before docked? The damned HMS Reliant. If they'd been spotted before, it was quite possible they'd be recognized. They had to leave- what the hell was that?

Flying right over the Reliant was nothing other than another dragon. A young dragon, by the babyish look of it, yet already impressively sized and carrying a full grown man on its back. The two stared at each other with astonishment for a moment, then, hissing, Harry turned and yelled for his men to leave immediately. With fear and annoyance, he realized Chuma was still purchasing oranges. Damn! He flew up, ready to rescue the man, when he heard the other dragon cry out to him.

"Wait! Please!"

The other's movements were clumsy, childish, no surprise considering he was probably far older, if a bit inexperienced at being a dragon. He had no problem avoiding the other and their attempts to catch up to him.

"I've never seen another dragon before! Please, why are you fleeing?"

That made him stop. Even if was just a trick, he didn't really enjoy upsetting children of any species, he realized. Beating his wings and hovering in the air for a moment, he turned around and landed, regarding them warily. His tail flicked back and forth like a mad feline's, feeling a little ticked and like eviscerating something might cheer him up.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"I would ask the same. I am William Laurence, and this is Temeraire." the man, a naval officer by the look of him, introduced them both. "I say, you don't seem to have a rider? Is that normal?"

What luck. They were complete novices. "Normal enough." he snorted. "I am Captain Harry Potter."

Temeraire, nearly Harry's own size, examined him with deep curiosity, looking over his horns and spiked tail before looking back up. "Captain? I thought only humans could be captain. And you aren't wearing any straps. Is that not a bit uncivilized? You're walking around naked."

Well, he'd never thought of it that way before. If he could have, he'd have blushed. Instead, he did his best to ignore it. "Well, I don't care what humans think. I own my own boat, and that's the way I like it."

Now Laurence was scowling. "You're a pirate."

Temeraire looked delighted. "You have your own boat, really? Oh, do you see many battles?"

The questions baffled Harry, seeming rather obvious but he nodded. To Laurence, he looked more wary. "Have you heard of me, perhaps? Then you know I only attack those who attack me or another human being first."

"I did, actually, though no one said you were a captain. They merely said to watch out for pirates with a fire breathing dragon on their side, and to capture if at all possible, delay and alert to the Aerial Corps if not. You're highly wanted, with at least several thousand pounds on your head." Laurence mused. "Actually, I'm beginning to wonder if this conversation would not be viewed as treasonous if it went on any longer."

Temeraire sighed loudly in protest, then perked up. "Are we going to fight then?"

"I would rather not. I don't fight children." As he said this, he rose his wings and pushed his back legs forcefully against the ground, lifting off into the air and giving them no time for a retort.

When he got back to Chuma, though, he was disgruntled to find the man, as well as his ship, had been grounded. There was yet another dragon there, an adult this time and around equal to him in size if perhaps a bit shorter and heavier built. It had a single rider as well, and seemed to be a courier. It baffled him that a beast of that size would be relegated to carrying letters and packages, but in any case, it was well sufficient to keep his crew paralyzed. And any of the guards were sufficient to kill Chuma or any of the crew they'd captured.

"Well, this has been a lucky week, hasn't it? Can't say I was expecting this. Two odd, unidentified breed dragons on the same day." the dragon rider mused. "Me and Volly must be off soon, but if you surrender now peacefully, I can assure you your crew and captain will be treated well."

Hells, why did they keep making that mistake? "I don't have a captain, I AM the Captain of the ship. Captain Harry Potter, not at your service. Let my crew go. We came to peacefully trade, we don't have a quarrel with you."

The man rolled his eyes. "Not a _ship _captain. In the Corps, we refer to the companion human or leader of a dragon as the captain. I'm afraid that you are in British Territory currently, and under law all dragons must be part of the Aerial Corps. Or at one of our designated breeding grounds."

Breeding grounds? Harry gagged. They had to be joking. Yet, he couldn't in good conscious struggle back as long as his crew would be endangered by it...

Catching a look in Chuma's eye, he saw fiery determination, and the man silently nodded. The man would never live in or tolerate slavery again. Nor would he tolerate letting anyone go into it. The captain included. He would rather die.

Feeling deeply upset, but willing to respect that choice, Harry made as if giving in, nodding- then launched himself at Volly, the other dragon, fire launching from his lungs. There were screams on the air, and a cacophony of confusion. The next thing he knew he and the other dragon were biting into each other, rolling, scrabbling, breaking off and then rising into the air for an aerial skirmish, diving at each other and trying to kill each other. Blind hot rage set Harry into unreason, and therefore it was not so surprising that another managed to sneak up on him and knock him over from the sky.

Temeraire. Little brat. Twice now he'd decided to spare the child's life, and twice he'd regretted it! Yet together, the two dragons small as they were weighed more than he did, and could harass him at will from different sides. He flailed at them, making use of his tail, but the two drew back and there was a loud bang. Harry crumpled, side heaving and bloody. He'd been shot, and wheezed in pain. He stood up again, fire pouring from his mouth.

Shot, bang. Again, he fell.

"Give up! If you continue like this, you'll die!"

"Good." he snarled, before his legs gave out from under him, and the world went white, blood failing to reach his head when he rose it up. Moments after he'd muttered defiance, Captain Potter fell, unconscious, bleeding, and beaten.

* * *

><p>When he woke again, he was on a boat. At first, he'd thought it had all just been a terrible dream, but then he noticed nothing about it was familiar, that he was bound and wrapped up, and that Temeraire wasn't far away from him.<p>

"Hi." the other black dragon chirped.

With a snarl, Harry turned his head away, refusing to give greeting back. They'd taken his freedom from him. They'd taken and probably killed who knew how many of his crew, hung them for piracy if nothing else. Never mind if the cargo was their own families. With violence, he found himself loathing the past, and the old world, and everything these backwards 'civilized gentlemen' stood for. He was finding it hard to believe these were his own country men. In his own time, they'd never have done such things.

He saw there was food prepared for him already, but refused to eat it. The wizard would rather starve to death than be breeding fodder.

"Are you upset? I know I would be upset, if I lost Laurence. But I thought you said you hadn't a captain. Were the crew like a captain to you?"

Ugh. It was hard feeling angry at an inquisitive child, and he turned his head. "Yes, I suppose you could say that."

"What breed are you? They reckon I am an Imperial, from China."

"Hungarian Horntail." he replied, before realizing there probably weren't any horntails in Hungary. Or anywhere else in the world. "We were a feral population, I believe I am likely the last."

"Oh. I am sorry to hear that."

He sighed. "Tell me, why am I not to be executed? I've eaten men. I am to understand the penalty for that is death."

"That's disgusting!" Temeraire exclaimed, before remembering his manners. What little manners he had, anyway. "They say as the only fire-breather in all of Britain, you are too valuable."

Oh. The only fire breather? God damn it. If he'd known before fire breathing was that rare, he'd have kept a tighter lid on it. Then they wouldn't be in this mess. Well, too late now, he supposed. Perhaps he could at some point slip off, and turn into a human. Then they'd never find him. He couldn't help but groan at the thought of what he'd do with his life now. Go back to piracy? Retire? Die? All he could feel was despair, really.

A human he didn't recognize came by. "Oh, he's awake? Good! I was worried he might die."

"Pity." Harry muttered sardonically.

"Oh, don't be like that. Those at the Aerial Corps are prepared to offer you and your companions full pardon in return for helping in the war."

Full pardons? So they weren't dead? This was... as fantastic a chance as he could have hoped for, really. His crew wouldn't be prisoners, at least. Or, in theory. For all he knew, they'd sell them off in secret. "I will accept, provided I have proof and can check up on them periodically."

That gave a little pause, but finally a nod. "Agreed. We're not all bastards, you know."

Now that made him laugh. "Oh, really?" he joked. Perhaps it would not be so bad. A fighting dragon, squaring off against Napoleon? Sounded exciting. Not too bad, really. He was really only trading one war for another, he supposed. And another, and another. At least this time he knew he was on the winning side. Theoretically, if having dragons didn't mess everything all up, he knew how the future went.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ushujaa - **Heroism, Bravery

* * *

><p><em>Basic Premise: <em>Harry Potter ends up in the era of the Napoleonic Wars- as a dragon animagus!

_Warnings for this chapter: references to slavery, mostly._

_OCs:_

Azizi - female captain of one of the pirate ships

Chuma - Harry's best friend, currently.

_**Year**_: Still set in 1805 in the middle of the Napoleonic Wars, not long after the HMS Temeraire fought in the battle of Trafalgar in October- the same eponymous ship that the dragon (and book series) is named after. It is nearing 1806.

It has been quite some time since I've updated, but I felt like writing again. :D I have refound my Temeraire books, so I might re-read them. In the meantime, this update is rather short. Once again, not a huge chance of me updating again/ever, but I do feel inclined to write at least one more chapter.

I did take pause at remembering that one of the Tm. books says Africa has dragons in it, which makes it seem like maybe it should be an equalizer, but then I also remembered there were in fact slaves in this setting, the first book had mentions of them. In any case this is not really canon so I suppose it doesn't matter!

* * *

><p><em>The story continues...<em>

After that conversation, he had found his strength failing him and, before he could continue it any further, had to rest. Now he found himself waking again to the familiar sound of surf and wave, and sailors chatting and going about their daily chores. For a moment, he pretended to sleep, listening and trying to get a sense of things. Was there a guard? The deal he'd been offered was tempting, but, escaping to be free was extremely tempting too. If he could manage it.

He worried about Azizi; if she had heard about his capture, it was possible she might come to rescue him, and he was not sure the pardon would extend to someone who happened to be on a different ship. And he also worried about Chuma and the rest of his crew; what if the men had lied to him? What if they weren't truly being pardoned and all the messages they planned to give him of their safety were fake?

Unfortunately, escape might just make things worse. He did not know what he would do if everyone he knew, if but for a brief time, came to die. It was truly beginning to hit him that he was never going to see his real home again, and he felt homesick and weary to his stomach. He'd attached to them, could he help it? He had no one else now. Voldemort had taken everything. And he didn't even know if in this alternate world he could do anything to prevent a future with him in it from coming into existence, which at least would be some mild consolation. It seemed like there was no Voldemort at all. Was this some sick sort of purgatory?

The smell of fish wafted to his nose, and he felt a seething anger. He was to be like a damned pet. And breeding fodder? They actually used sapient beings for breeding fodder? No, stupid question; of course they did. They did that to slaves and broke apart their families all the time. He knew that from stories.

With sickening horror, he knew that the only reason he was avoiding the fate of total enslavement himself was because he had agreed to fight for them. But was that really any sort of freedom at all? They were going to keep him as a beast of burden forever. Perhaps it was karma; until recently Harry had never spared much thought for House Elves or their plight, and even had treated Hermione wanting to free them as a joke. But seeing dragons happily in slavery, raised from birth to do so, changed his mind.

"I want to see my crew. Now," he demanded, attempting to stand, but immediately felt dizzy with pain in his side, and chains chinked about him. Idly, he tried to remember if horn tails could breathe fire hot enough to melt iron. He didn't feel well enough to try.

The man... he faintly recognized him as one who'd spoken to him before, moved toward him warily, notably staying out of fire breathing distance. The baby dragon, who he was astonished to notice had grown even more since he'd last taken note of him by at least a few inches, Temeraire, was there too. Abruptly, he remembered the man's name._ Laurence._

This was one of the men who had assisted in his capture, then. Had he ordered Temeraire to attack him or had the little brainwashed creature done that on their own to earn approval? He felt a bit sorry for them.

"That isn't possible, they aren't here. But I can send word for them once you reach shore again."

A wave of loneliness fell over him. "None of them wanted to stay at my side?"

"It wasn't that. They weren't allowed to. I am sorry, foul business, but the command didn't want them near you."

"Now listen here," he hissed, an idea coming to him. "They are my crew. Do you know what that means? They are the ones that I will let fly me. They are not just my ship crew, but my aerial crew as well. If they are pardoned, then surely they can serve as riders?" He had very foggy notion of what riding entailed, and he had to admit he did not fancy having them as masters, but better them who would sympathize with him than some other bastard who would happily chain him all day.

"I do not blame you for being angry, if someone took my Captain away," the young dragon began, looking rather upset as he did, which made him wonder if someone had actually tried. "I would not tolerate it at all. Oh Laurence, you simply must get Harry his crew back."

"I will try," Laurence sighed, as if he was being massively put upon, which gave Harry mixed-feelings about being grateful that he condescended to try to help. "But it is not in my authority, as you know."

"I kind of wish we had run off with him, Laurence. It would have been a lot of fun to be pirates."

Mischievously, Harry butted in, seeing perhaps some opportunity to turn the youth to his side. The oriental dragon was not fully brainwashed and obedient, apparently. "Oh, yes it is; and you would get to rescue many people, too. I was not a normal, lowly sort of pirate you know, but a rescuer, a hero."

Laurence looked a bit off put. "Goodness, Temeraire, you will get us both hung for treason one of these days, I swear. Harry, you are not the slightest bit helping."

"It is better to be hung for doing the right thing, than to live in comfort while others suffer to bring you your comforts," Harry said. He faintly thought he might have heard a quote like that once, though he did not know from where.

"Well, in any case, the wait should not be too much. We will be arriving soon. And, if you are such a creature as can be trusted, it is of possibility that you will be let loose to fly there. However, I should let you know that it is protocol not to let any dragon loose without first accepting a harness." Laurence frowned at this, like he disagreed, and Harry found himself liking him a bit more, even if he found his speech very stiff and old fashioned and the man was a little too accepting of authority. "Until you are harnessed you are classified as a feral, I do believe."

"Very well. There is a man, Chuma; I will let him harness me. I suppose that would make him my captain?"

"It would. I do not think the authorities will be very fond of this," Laurence frowned again; goodness the man did frown a lot. _Screw you, Laurence._

"To bloody hell their fucking asses," he swore at him, and Temeraire looked very interested at his language, which he supposed he must not have heard a lot of if he hung around such a prim and proper man all the time. "I will have my crew, and I know of no better man at the moment to be my captain if I cannot captain myself."

Laurence held up his hands. "Such language! I am on your side, Harry Potter. A strange name, if I may mention it without doing you a discourtesy," he said politely. "Very English? And your accent is quite good."

"Yes, well, I have spent a fair bit of time near England actually. It is almost as much of a home to me as the sea."

"Now that we can both agree on."

"Oh? Troubles at home?" Was he engaging in idle gossip now? Ah, it could not hurt to make an ally.

"I do not wish to burden you of it, but I fear my new occupation as Dragon Captain is never going to soothe over with them. It is a great disappointment. Not that I do not cherish Temeraire; dearest, know I would not give you up in a heartbeat. I am sorry that others wish to part us." Laurence stroked the young dragon's head, who was staring at Harry with unbrindled fascination.

He found himself glancing at Temeraire with greater curiosity himself now. "So what is the story behind you? I'm the first dragon you ever saw?"

"Yes! Oh, I love this story. You see, Laurence captured me in a battle against the French! I was only an egg then, but I am sure it was splendid."

A dawning suspicion began to grow on him. No, no, it was too much of a coincidence. His capture, it could _not be _his own damn fault for being too merciful. It couldn't be. "From a ship? He was a captain?"

"Of the HMS Reliant, yes," Laurence said proudly. "But I gave that all up for you, Temeraire, who I am sure the French must be hanging themselves twice over for losing. You were a complete surprise to me, in all ways, I had no notion you were so close to hatching and I cannot imagine what they were doing with you so negligently far out to sea."

_No._

"And..." he felt tongue tied. "The Ship you captured was the Amitie, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Why, how did you know?" Temeraire looked quite perplexed.

Bloody hell. He could have stopped this. He could have stopped this whole debacle if only he had not been merciful that one time. "Because my ship passed by the battle. We decided to leave you be, but, to think. If only I had gone in, you could have been on MY side now, an egg of my crew, and would not have fought me. I wouldn't have been captured."

"Oh, I wish you would not! I like Laurence. I can't imagine how dreadful it would be if I had not met him." Inwardly, Harry felt himself frowning. The young dragon had only known Laurence a short time, and likely bonded to him so quickly as a mother figure. How well did the dragon know this man truly? But he could not say any of that, lest he gain his dislike and ruin what little success he had in getting an ally here.

"It is unlikely you would have done well. Your ship was not anywhere near as strong as ours."

He wondered if he should reveal they had more than one ship on his side. He did not want to endanger Azizi if at all possible, and revealing her existence could cause a man hunt if they did not already know. He only hoped Chuma could get message to her. "But did you have any protection against dragon fire? But you are right, it is pointless to dwell on what was or could have been."

_Hogwarts. _He felt homesick again. Were there any wizards in this world at all? He could feel magic; perhaps there were, just hidden away. If there were, he... he would find them, somehow. Maybe put a stop to all that idiotic pure blooded bigotry before it could get going. And, somehow, stop the bigotry here in the muggle realm.

"We had some antidragon weaponry, but that is true; fire dragons are rare and terrible. That is why Britain desires you so greatly."

Here he found himself calculating. It was strange, he was far more Slytherin than he used to be, or maybe just more open to it now that it had become a necessity. The hat had said he could fit there after all. "How much, exactly? Could I ask them to outlaw slavery?"

Laurence looked gobsmacked. "I... do not know." His puzzlement was friendly, not angry; he sounded as if he wished to know on his behalf. But he also seemed to have the shock of someone who never would have thought of such a thing to question it.

Here, he thought, was a man who had never thought to question authority in his entire life even when he disagreed with it. Perhaps a certain Potter could change that, and, if they were going to be working together in future, the poor young dragon beside him as well. Temeraire already seemed prone to questioning, to defiance. Harry just needed to aim that in the right direction, to teach them to think critically; if he did not, would unwitting Laurence drown out Temeraire's rebellion? Or would have Temeraire, one day, encouraged Laurence to rebel on his own?

The future, as always, was uncertain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ushujaa - **Heroism, Bravery

* * *

><p><em>Basic Premise: <em>Harry Potter ends up in the era of the Napoleonic Wars- as a dragon animagus!

_OCs:_

Azizi - female captain of one of the pirate ships

Chuma - Harry's best friend, currently.

A/N: It is ridiculous how fast Temerarie dragons grow; I simply do not believe an animal could grow several tons in a month, at all, without magic being involved.

* * *

><p><em>The story continues...<em>

Time passed, about a week and a half, with Harry being incredibly bored but slowly feeling much better from his wound. He seemed to have retained the wizard habit of healing more rapidly from muggle-style injuries, or perhaps it was a dragon healing ability, for he thought that in another day he'd probably be completely healed entirely.

He was startled to see a great big red and orange dragon flying above head, and gaped when it landed on the transport as gently as possible; the beast had to be, easily, some 30 or 50 tons and over a 100 feet in length! Astounding, and, some strange instinctive part of his brain told him it was a female as well. She had to outweigh him by a factor of, well, ten as a dragon, and he began to feel very dubious that, fire breath or not, a horn tail could be anything in comparison to this creature. Truly he was glad he had never faced this beast in the tournament, even if he knew it could not breath fire.

"This is Captain Portland and his dragon Laetificat; they are the ones who carried you to the transport ship."

"Oh?" he turned his head to Temerarie. "I see. With such size I cannot doubt it." Inwardly he resented it a bit; he could probably be eaten in a few bites by this creature if he was perfectly honest about it; being around only 4 tons and 30 or so feet himself he was a miniscule dragon in comparison. Although the spikes along his body would probably make him very difficult eating indeed.

"They say we will be arriving soon, and they've arranged for you to meet up with your Chuma fellow; they say he agreed to be your captain."

"Good," he grunted at the youngster, feeling a bit of an urge to hiss. He wondered briefly if he still had parseltongue.

"I cannot say I am very pleased to have two untrained captains added to the ranks," said Captain Portland. "But it is fantastic to add two unique dragons to our ranks. A pleasure to meet you, ah, Harry Potter is it?"

Harry gazed at him, then, with a bit of mischievousness, held out a clawed hand for a handshake. "Yes."

The man looked a bit startled but reluctantly shook 'hands' with him.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

In the end, the wait was not very long, and he was finally allowed to fly free; for a given definition of free, for both Temerarie and Laetificat were flying beside him to make sure he did not go off on his own and make an escape. They were a touch surprised he was healed enough, but Harry did not care and said no word to them, merely springing aloft. Flying alongside Laetificat, he saw that she had a great crew upon her back and sides, and realized this was what they had to be talking about. Riflemen, from what he saw, made up the great bulk of her crew. There was a great amount of rigging and harnesses around her, and he supposed some of the men must have been emergency repairmen for the rigging, or for making adjustments if necessary. He was surprised to see that youths made up some of the individuals there; apprentice dragon riders of a sort maybe?

Craning his long neck at his own back, he wondered if he would manage to get a single person on there in comparison; he was extremely spiky and he did not know if a harness would work on him or if it would rip straight through. The thought did give him a bit of pleasure.

They arrived at center Aerial Command, not far from London in the countryside, Laurence going off into the building to talk to his new superiors, and he saw shortly to his joy Chuma coming toward him.

"You came."

"Of course, you are my friend," the dark skinned man frowned. "It is unfortunate and rather twisted fate that I have come to be your master and you my slave." Unlike the white men, he did not dally around it or avoid any comparison but admitted it outright; if he was not free to go but had to serve him, what was he but a slave? It was true enough that he could in a way refuse a captain, but then he would only end up as many slaves did; as breeding fodder useful for nothing else. "I would almost say 'better me your master than someone else', except is that not what all masters say to themselves, that they are better masters to their slaves and that if they were not master someone else would be?"

He sighed to Chuma. "I despise this already, though I know you will treat me well. I understand now better how it was like to be you, though at least I did not have to eat disgusting gruel or be forced into chains for very long or worry about beatings for disobedience."

"Eh? No beatings for disobedience? What do you call those wounds?" Chuma pointed at his bandages, unaware that in fact the wounds had already healed perfectly. They talked quietly, aware others were not far away and probably watching, hoping that a dark skinned man would fail at harnessing a dragon; he would be one of the first, maybe The First, even, to do so in England.

"Capture wounds," he laughed sordidly. "I have not been 'punished' for anything yet, thank goodness. Have you come to make me obedient then?"

"Of course not; only to help you seem so." The man moved to put the harness about him, and encountered a little bit of difficulty; unfortunately, his hide punctured several holes in the thing, although it did go on. "There, I am your Captain now. Strange that our fates should be so reversed like this, Captain Ushujaa."

"Shhh, they do not know that name, I think, and I shall keep it secret. I was silly enough to give them my human name, so, I will have to use Ushujaa or something else for my human one now if I return to it."

"Will you escape?"

"I might, given time to get their confidence and guard down. On the other hand, I might be able to make real changes here for the better." Harry said thoughtfully. "I shall kick myself if I do not at least ask for slavery to be ended in Britain to the upper command, at the very least. The rest of the old crew is safe, I trust?"

"Yes," the man, his... Captain and more or less his owner, goodness that was odd to think about, nodded. "They have been pardoned as long as they do not return to piracy. I am trying to help them find honest work now; some are not very happy about it, for they wish to continue freeing slaves." Not happy was probably an understatement.

"I don't blame them for that in the slightest. Can't they be the rest of my crew, though?" Gazing at his relatively small dragon body, he hissed in displeasure. "If I am not too small and spiky?"

"You are definitely what they call a lightweight, or maybe a middleweight; the messenger dragon who carried me here only had one rider and it was about your size. I truly do not know. And the man who I went with said an untrained crew was useless."

Not for the first time, Harry profoundly wished he was bigger. He had wished he was bigger when Dudley had picked on him, and he wished he was bigger now so that he would not be such a pipsqueak compared to the other dragons about. Still, he had advantages the other dragons did not. "Riflemen are not too hard to train, I should think, being that you just point and shoot. They could be those." A harness-man, he admitted, might be more complicated and if it kept everyone from falling off in flight and splatting to the ground, essential to be decently trained. But there was no reason he had to go into combat immediately.

"I do hope so. Emem, Jengo, " a woman and a man who were both tall in stature and fairly peaceful, neither having ever started a fight among the crew, "Nkechi," a short and fiesty woman, "and Faraji," a rather pessimistic man but an accurate navigator," expressed a wish to be your crew still."

"Then I will gladly ask for them," he purred, pleased that so many cared for him. His pirates - was that a hint of dragon possessiveness in his brain? - yes, his pirates would help him in battle surely, and with these damned Englishmen as well.

Wait, wasn't he an Englishman himself?

Ah. They were _Muggle _Englishmen. Wizards, he knew, never had the same racial divides and had many Black purebloods among their ranks. If you were a pureblood, that was good enough for them. Although, that was racist and problematic in its own way.

After what felt like an hour or two, Harry saw Laurence come out with another man, and swiveled his head. "They kept me waiting two hours before I could even get in a meeting," the man said, to excuse his long absence. "I am sorry if I tried your patience, when I left you here. Although, you could have gone and stayed with Temerarie and had a nice cow?"

"It is quite alright sir Captain Laurence, pray, meet the newly-appointed Captain Chuma. I believe you have not been properly introduced yet." Harry tried to be extra formal, wanting to make a decent impression this time.

Laurence gave a small polite bow. "A pleasure to meet you." He did not, it seem, have any grudge at having a black man carrying the same rank as him.

"Good to meet you, Laurence," Chuma mimed the bow, if a touch uncertainly. "Who is this other man?"

"Lieutenant Greene, at your service. I see you managed to harness Potter; in such case, you both must be off to Loch Laggen, one of our largest coverts and the best for intensive training, for your training. You will fly to Scotland; here, I have for you a map," he proffered it from his coat and, after a moments hesitation looking between Chuma and Laurence, handed it to Laurence who was closer. "You both will be heading to the same place, so I trust you can share?"

"It will be no trouble, I hope. Although, I will be stopping for a night at my parents' estate."

An estate? Laurence, he considered, must be some kind of wealthy minor nobility fellow, a person well to do, from the way he talked. A proper 'gentleman', as they said in this time period. If he had not learned better already and seen the deep affection the man had for his mount, he would have wondered if Laurence resented having to train Temeraire; the aerial division did not seem quite the sort of thing you retired from easily, a life long duty. Thinking on that he wondered if he was asking too much of Chuma, then remembered that Chuma had volunteered and was perhaps going to actually be quite well off for this; riding your own dragon had to be quite respectable he hoped, even if it made him gnash in teeth in wounded pride to have anyone ride him like a common beast of burden.

"I do not mind if Chuma does not mind. The sooner we leave, the better."

Laurence went to Temerarie, and he followed. They met another man there, Bowden, a high ranking man. Laurence had been saddling his dragon with his luggage, light cylindrical bandboxes that, apparently were not something he had used before, as Temerarie remarked upon them. "I barely notice them. Could we get one of those tents that are made to be put on dragonback? It would be nice if you could ride out of the wind."

"I do not know how, but perhaps someday, in any case with the leather coat they gave me I will be warm enough," Laurence said thoughtfully and reassuringly to the concerned young dragon. Harry felt he probably could not fit one of those tents on himself, and sighed at the occasional spike sticking right out of his harness. He was debating if he was going to have to carry Chuma in his claws, or if that would hurt him worse.

"It must wait until you have a proper harness, tents require locking carabiners." What in the world was a locking carabiner? Bowden had interjected himself to the conversation, and Harry felt now quite lost. "Nearly ready? Hmm, I see you are bent on turning all custom to suit yourself." The man gazed at Laurence's luggage, and, on Laurence's behalf, Harry felt quite offended.

"Custom is sometimes made to be broken, when something better comes along the way," Harry defended the man, and himself as well, for he could hardly be following custom himself.

Bowden looked quite displeased to have a dragon talking down to him, and it sheepishly occurred to him that he was not actually helping Laurence here. Laurence seemed to know it too, for he was quite alarmed.

"Goodness, no sir! It was merely that I did not want it to be awkward for him to bear, and this was the best replacement I had for my sea-chest on short notice."

Harry felt quite flummoxed. They were having a fight over what kind of luggage he had? Really? In any case, Bowden seemed somewhat appeased, straightening. "I hope you have as easy a time putting aside your naval thinking as you do your sea chest, for you must be an aviator now."

"I am an aviator, sir," Laurence told him.

Harry swished his tail like a cat, though he was mindful not to actually knock anyone over as that could be quite lethal with the spikes on it. The horntail had practically a mace on the end of it. "Sir, I come from naval background of sorts as well; I hope you do not think poorly of me for it."

Now the upper-ranked man looked truly off-guard. "It is not that I think poorly of you both! Simply, let me be honest. I do not wish for the ways of the Corps to be discussed with outsiders. You will oblige me in this I hope, for His Majesty wishes we not distract ourselves with the opinions of outsiders. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," said Laurence grimly, like his worst suspicions had been confirmed.

Was there some strange sort of intrigue going on here?

"Sir, may I know why I should be going there, and why it is so much more suitable, rather than here?" Boldness, from Laurence? He had not expected this.

"Because you have been ordered to it, that is what makes it suitable! But if you must know, the training master there is especially adept with inexperienced handlers. You are not the first to come from outside the ranks; dragons are strange creatures, some even taking a liking to sea captains and pirates. And... I fancy that you, Potter, would like the training master a fair deal."

Alright, clearly there was some sort of mystery going on; his interest was well up and stirred now. The man left, giving a friendly slap to his leg, just as abruptly as he'd arrived.

"Laurence, Temerarie, I do not suppose you would mind if Chuma joined you? I am not sure he can ride on me safely."

"Not at all, go ahead," said Temerarie.

"Thank you," said Chuma, having been silent the whole exchange. With his social status, he'd probably decided he could not risk as Laurence could any sort of argument over something so petty as a mildly rude or mysterious remark. Harry almost wished he shared his prudence.

And then, they were aloft.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The flight was mostly uneventful, except for one conversation.

"Are you alright, Laurence? You have been very quiet," he overheard Temerarie say.

"It's nothing. Are you tired?"

"No, you are lying, I can hear your unhappiness in your voice."

"Am I so transparent? I am just worried about our training, and what kind of reception we shall receive. Admiral Powys and Bowden were acting awfully strangely."

"If we do not like it, could we just not go away?"

"No, for we have a duty; I am a King's Officer and you a King's dragon. We cannot do as we please."

"I have not met the king, and I am not his property like some sheep!"

Now this was boding to be amusing. Someone did not want to be a slave, apparently.

"I agree with you, Temerarie. One person should not be able to own another," said Harry. He found it interesting and curious as to how Laurence was going to explain this one away.

"Oh dear!" said Laurence. "It is not ownership. But we owe him our loyalty, besides, the Crown pays for your feed."

"I do not mind fish. Perhaps we could get a large transport ship and go back to sea?" said Temerarie longingly, and Harry saw great opportunity to sow discord. When, exactly, he'd gotten so intent on chaos he was not certain, he was worried he might start getting an addiction.

"Yes! It sounds like you would rather enjoy being a pirate with me, just imagine it," Harry chipped in. "We could free slaves together and steal great ill-begotten treasures from nasty people who do not deserve it, and have a great hoard to ourselves."

"Oh, that sounds exciting! Could we not, Laurence?"

"Afraid not. We are born too late, the Spanish burned the last big band out of Tortuga last century, only a few independent ships go about now, and dragon crews like Harry's are always in danger of being brought down. In fact, Harry, was yours not captured? That is how you came to be here with us."

Harry repressed a snarl. It was true enough, as much as he hated to remember the ill luck.

"In any case, there is nothing quite like the glory of protecting England, doing one's duty for King and country." At this patriotism Harry rolled his eyes.

"Does it need protecting? It is so quiet."

"At this very moment, Bonaparte has an army of a hundred thousand men waiting to come across the Channel the moment we let him. It is only quiet because we are working hard to keep it that way, dearest. "

Laurence and Temerarie went quiet for quite awhile.

"You could wait until you see how it is there before making any decisions," Chuma broke the quiet, a little uncertainly.

"That is a splendid idea, but it is mighty hard not to think about."

"You could tell me stories, Laurence, about the Armada again?"

And such was how they passed the time, with Harry occasionally adding in a great story of his own.

He remembered what Laurence had said, about his family probably not being all that pleased about him, and thus was unsurprised at how things were when they arrived at Wollaton Hall, Laurence's home. Oh, they were friendly enough and gave them lodgings, but when Laurence came out later that night he was quite clearly depressed about how things had gone, and had to wave away Temerarie's concern, telling him only that he had words with his father who was displeased with his new vocation, in fact, he had never even been pleased about him going to the Navy in the first place rather than the church.

Harry had nothing to offer; he had never had parents to have had the misfortune of them disagreeing with any of his vocations. Briefly he wondered how they would feel about him being a pirate; he supposed James would have been very amused.

He was surprised that Laurence would choose to sleep outside rather than inside; he had no idea the bond between the two of them was so very deep.

In the morning they had breakfast, and a crowd of admirers as well, and found himself very amused when one lady asked, "Laurence, did you saddle both of them?"

"No, he did not. We simply happen to be headed in the same direction."

"Oh, he speaks!"

Of course he speaks! Good Merlin, the ignorance! How could one not know of the one other sapient species on the planet that talked?!

"Would you like to come on my back for a ride?" Temerarie offered.

"Err, no thank you." That was a very predictable result, from such an ignorant lady as that. Most of the rest of the party made excuses and left as well, until only Laurence's mother was left.

"My mother, Lady Allendale, pray be gentle with her," Laurence introduced her to Temerarie. "Mother, this is Temerarie, a Chinese Imperial, the only one in all Europe, and the other dragon there is Harry Potter, a Hungarian Horntail, the only fire breather in all Britain."

"A pleasure to meet you, a mother, that is special right?" Temerarie said.

"A pleasure as well," Harry said.

"Quite fearsome looking, aren't you?" She eyed Harry, but that was the last bit of conversation, if you could call it that, they had together, for she spent the rest of the time talking to Temerarie and Laurence.

Harry felt a little like he was intruding on a private moment, and thus was all too glad when they were off again.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Loch Laggen was an interesting place. It was winter, the sky a pearly gray, and the fortifications quite medieval looking with four bare towers and a large courtyard over-run with dragons. A large Regal Copper (apparently the same breed as the massive Laetificat), with brown and purple Winchesters on its back that were similar in size to Harry, sprawled on its belly, and not far were Yellow Reapers which they landed by.

Servants came out to meet them, and take baggage. Up in the air were five dragons, a Longwing, a very long winged dragon with very colorful wings black and white rippled with orange fading to blue at the tips, a couple of Yellow Reapers and what Harry thought maybe were Grey Coppers but was not expert enough yet to say for certain.

He saw now that there were men with flags, 'signalmen', as part of the crew, and they were practicing manuevers. What was more, a dragon was directing them.

"Nitidus, you are dropping too low on the pass, try a six-beat pattern on the loop," said the golden hued riderless dragon, up in the air. The dragon was a bit bigger than Harry himself, but smaller than the ever-growing Temerarie, absurdly enough. A middleweight, apparently. They, a male he decided from the voice and by instinct, swung their head toward him and Laurence. "Captain Chuma, Captain Laurence? Admiral Powys said you would come, I am Celeritas, training master. You are both a bit older than most first time handlers, but in young dragons that have to be hurried along, as Temerarie likely must, that is a good thing."

He interrogated Laurence for a bit, on Temerarie, his skills - "No special offensive abilities?" - his weight - "About nine tons now" - and informed him that he would be joining Maximus, the Regal Copper here in training, and would be in formation with Lily, the longwing here.

"And you, you are a fire breather?"

"Yes," Harry swiveled his head.

"Hmm, you are quite a bit smaller than I had hoped; the French Flamme de Gloire outnumber you and in many a case outweigh you. But a fire breather is nothing to scoff at. Of course, I shall have to see you fly, and those spikes are something quite interesting. Light weights are often good endurance flyers, are you tired or may you fly now?"

"I am quite ready now," Harry said, eager to fly. He had loved Quidditch, and in many ways this was even better, though he was not sure how much he was going to like flying in formation.

"Hmm, your harness fits you absurdly poorly. We can afford to have you fitted correctly first. Go and be measured with Temerarie. They may have to make you an extra thick hide perhaps; tell them so."

Grumbling a little, he went, though he was admittedly very happy at the idea of getting the damn thing off him, if only for a moment, and replaced with something that did not snag on every scale and horn. Men came up and measured him all over, and he put up with it, reminded a little of being back in the robe shop with Malfoy. He could almost be convinced to miss him, for at least that would be another wizard to talk to. Almost. One could not really miss a snot like Malfoy.

It was not without comforts; he got to hunt his own cow, which was admittedly very strange to him, but not unwelcome to his draconified mind, and very delicious. Children stared at him, and he listened in amusement as Laurence asked where he might wash off the blood from Temerarie, who had made quite a mess. Harry did not feel he needed any groomer; he found it easy enough to lick himself fastidiously like a cat. Still, he watched them go to the lake, and, more of interest to him, Laurence offered to take off Temerarie's harness to keep it from chafing him and get him a chain to wear so he would not be 'naked' instead.

"I should rather like my harness off as well. They need to get me a new one anyway, this one is half shredded already," Harry complained.

"If your Captain would be alright with it."

Harry leveled a massive glare at him. "I am no one's pet, Laurence. Chuma is my friend, also, so of course he would be alright with it." Chuma was not there currently; he had been led off, to test his reading and writing skills in case he needed to take messages, and perhaps teach him better English.

"My apologies. And, oh my goodness," Laurence gazed at Temeraire's hide with the harness removed. It had a nasty bruise from a buckle. "I will have to get a poultice for that."

A Winchester suddenly flew down beside him. "I'd like mine off too."

"I truly do not wish to give offense to your rider..." Laurence could be so stuffy and proper, couldn't he?

"He has not been around in three days," the dragon complained. Looking at him, Harry fancied he might actually be even smaller than he was, shoulder barely reaching above a man's head and considering how massive all the dragons seemed to be around here that was quite something. The dragon was quite dirty with dried blood and mud and his harness was stained, roughly patched and in poor shape, far more so than all the other dragons around here. "My name is Levitas."

"My name is Laurence and this is Temerarie," Temerarie looked rather possessive as his captain said that, eyes turning to slits. "I shall try and endeavor to find out what happened to your handler."

"I will rip the harness off you, if you like," Harry offered, and before Laurence could possibly object put his teeth to it.

"No, you'll ruin it!" Levitas squeaked.

"A pity, it looks quite ruined already to me." Harry stopped, reluctantly.

"No need to resort to that! Maybe his handler is sick."

"Oh no, I do not think so." Levitas said, and gave a happy rumble at Laurence petting him. Temerarie gave a low growl and Levitas gave an alarmed chirp and flew away, hiding behind Maximus.

"Temerarie!" Harry exclaimed. "Do not be so envious of a little petting!"

"But Laurence is mine!" Temerarie complained, and Harry found himself remembering that Temerarie was only a child. Then he lowered his head in shame. "He would be easier to clean."

"Oh come now, I would not give up an inch of your hide!" Laurence exclaimed. "I shall see if I can get some of the kids to look after him."

Harry found himself rolling his eyes at their conversation. Eh, little kids, so insecure.

"That would be nice. But why has his handler not come?"

"I do not know; I would not let anything except force or great illness keep me away from you, it is quite troubling."

Harry had his suspicions, and he did not like them. "I have seen men with servants and beast of burden who take them for granted; I suspect his handler is one of them, and thinks of his dragon that way. It is not much of a mystery in such a case."

That silenced them quite good. It was funny that they were so naive, that such had not occurred to them immediately, or perhaps Laurence had just been too polite to voice it.

"Well, we will need to have all the facts before we can pass judgment," Laurence said uneasily.

Harry turned and set to chewing off his obnoxious harness.

"Oh, stop that!"

"Need help, Harry?" Temerarie offered.

"Not you too!"

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

He turned to woolgathering in his own thoughts. Knowing he had Chuma as his captain made him feel quite a bit better; it was official now and no one could take the man from him.

He found his mind going to magic; he still had it, apparently, and that meant maybe, though he had at his point mostly given up hope, that there were actually wizards. And if so, maybe in fact this was in his early past after all, he abruptly realized, as he remembered something from history. It was Quidditch history, which was the only real reason he remembered it considering history normally sent him asnooze.

There was a mysterious 1877 Quidditch tournament that no one remembers, which was recorded, in Quidditch of the Ages if he recalled correctly:

_"The competition was undoubtedly planned: a venue chosen (the Ryn Desert in Kazakhstan), publicity materials produced, tickets sold. In August, however, the wizarding world woke up to the fact that they had no memory whatsoever of the tournament taking place. Neither those in possession of tickets nor any of the players could remember a single game. However, for reasons none of them understood, English Beater Lucas Bargeworthy was missing most of his teeth, Canadian Seeker Angelus Peel's knees were on backwards and half the Argentinian team were found tied up in the basement of a pub in Cardiff."_

That fact meant that, at some point, a mass obliviation very well could have occurred, wiping memory entirely of dragon riders. A mass memory spell did exist, somewhere. Though why anyone would do such a thing Harry had no idea. It still seemed slightly more plausible than him having entered another world though; for one, he had actually time traveled before, so why not again even further back?

An idea that, apparently, he did not have to consider for very long, for the very next morning he found everyone strangely still and frozen, and a blonde man in robes staring at him; a man who rather resembled Neville Longbottom actually.

"It is one of ours, alright. What is one of our Horntails doing out with muggle dragons? It should be far too vicious to tame," the man complained.

"I beg your pardon sir, but I am no ordinary Horntail and I am hardly vicious. Now, please unfreeze my muggles," he hissed at him, and had to mentally double-check that he had not perhaps lapsed into Parseltongue.

Wizards. They DID exist, in this time here!

If he remembered his dates correctly... then the Elder wand was probably in the possession of a wizard named Loxias at the moment. It would not be too long until it disappeared for a century or more and reappeared in a certain wand-makers hands where it would then be stolen by Grindelwald. Now was his chance to grab it and stop Voldemort or Grindelwald even from ever getting it, provided there actually were wizards here and this was not some traveler who had come here by the same method he had or some ridiculousness. It was an idea to consider. Could the dark wizard Loxias be working with Bonaparte, maybe? He was not familiar enough with history, admittedly, beyond Quidditch history.

Perhaps, after he got the wand and perhaps the cloak and stone too, maybe he could even travel back to his own time and place, somehow.

"My!" the man startled and jumped backward. "Are you some kind of hybrid? I had thought them impossible. Leo Longbottom, at your service."

Of couuuuurse he was. "They call me Harry, not at your service. And perhaps I am. Explain yourself."

"We don't allow muggles to have magical creatures, magical dragons included. I am here to take you in, and remove their memories of you."

"It is alright, they do not suspect the truth. I have not revealed any magic to them." One wizard could not possibly hope to take on a dragon, well, alright, they could he amended remembering how he had done so, but proper policy was to have a team. He scanned about, searching for the man's companions, and sniffed. He could smell them. "I do not appreciate being ambushed. Reveal yourselves."

They appeared, a small team of what he supposed had to be ministry workers, witches and wizards. "He talks?"

"I talk," he affirmed for the second time in a week it felt like, tiredly. "I have business here and am doing well for the moment, although I would not mind seeing the Wizarding World again. By Merlin, please do not remove their memories of me here, only, perhaps it could be arranged that I leave here briefly to visit the Wizarding World? I have a fondness for Hogwarts."

"You've seen Hogwarts?"

"I have," he nodded his head.

"If you are familiar with the Wizarding World, then you must know of Loxias's reign of terror," Longbottom stated.

"Vaguely," Harry titled his head. "Only the barest of details."

"He is a Dark Wizard who has been gathering many witches and wizards to him from many countries. Even as Bonaparte threatens the Muggle world, Loxias threatens the Wizarding," Longbottom said softly, almost a whisper like he was afraid of being over-heard. "No one can stand up to him, it seems like. I profess, talking magical dragons are rare. You would be incredibly useful in a fight against him."

So yet another group came begging him to aid him in their war! Why did this happen to him so constantly? It seemed everyone he had ever met wanted him to fight for them.

"I will think on it, and see what I can do," he said slowly. "I should like my freedom; if I come to the Wizarding World, will I be free there?"

"That might be arrangeable, if difficult."

"No, Longbottom, you can't possibly be thinking of letting that beast roam around unchained!" a black haired man snarled, and Harry glanced at them uncertainly. Could it be? The resemblance was uncanny.

"Shut up, Black. I am in charge here, not you. And we have other magical beings who do not walk around in chains all the time, I am sure we can pass that same courtesy to a talking Wizarding dragon, who would be more than useful for our side. If they wish also to fight for muggles, who am I to argue?"

.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Loxias was an owner of the Elder Wand and a terrible Dark Wizard who left a path of destruction at some point in history or another. I am inclined to add him to the story; Harry with his magic, even with apparition alone, is edging on 'too powerful', and the original storyline not deviant enough._


	4. Chapter 4

**Ushujaa - **Heroism, Bravery

* * *

><p>notes: it's been awhile. a year even. been trying to whip up the desire to write this for awhile. Kinda funny how I update all my fics except the most popular ones. :P the recent racist crap in the news pisses me off a lot.<p>

on dragon breeding: it's heavily implied they are very dog-like compared to more 'wolf-like' smaller ancestors, hence the huge variability in domestic varieties, with Temerarie being like a kind of sapient border collie / bred for smarts. I've decided to explore that a bit here. As for any resulting fossils from magic dragons, that would be dealt with the same way wizards deal with anything muggles find they don't like: obliviate.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"I want to bring Chuma - my, ah,** owner**." Merlin that word soiled his mouth.

"Of course," Leo agreed easily, though Black looked less than pleased.

"A muggle should not own a magical creature," grumbled Black, but didn't stop them.

"Yes," Harry said. "He's dark skinned," he wasn't going to use the n-word, even if other people in this time did, "so he should be easy to pick out from the rest of the captains." Harry bet on their racism against nonhumans, err, their speciesism, being worse than their racism against muggles.

"We can't just let a Horntail roam loose, Black, if a muggle can help tame one he's a miracle worker," Leo Longbottom whispered to his companion, and Harry felt weirdly ambiguous about his triumph. What should he think?_ Ha, I was right, they're jerks?_ That wasn't exactly something to be happy about. He could not entirely blame them in this instance though: unlike, say, house elves, he knew Horntails were genuinely vicious tempered. Although, he'd been trying to steal the egg of the one he'd met, and he'd also only ever met one, so maybe he was prejudiced? He'd keep an open mind if he met any more of 'his' kind.

The ministry aurors mounted broomsticks, one brought out a very confused looking Chuma, and then they rose into the air, beckoning Harry to follow.

"Who are you?" Chuma asked worriedly.

"I'm Taurus Black, this is Leo Longbottom," Black introduced, and managed to answer zero percent of the question Harry guessed Chuma actually wanted to ask, which is 'where and why are you taking me and who the hell do you think you are?'.

"Don't worry Chuma, I know these people, sort of. They're wizards, and I'm a wizard dragon."

"You know, that actually explains quite a bit about you," said Chuma slowly, with a far greater deal of calmness than most people would possess in the same situation. Even as they rose into the air, he didn't seem too spooked.

Harry was uncertain where they were going, beyond somewhere Wizarding, and thought it might be the Ministry.

He was, in fact, dead wrong.

Instead, he found himself traveling to Hogsmeade. It was incredibly weird, both recognizing it and not recognizing it, and being so close to his old beloved Hogwarts. In fact, he'd even gotten a peak of it. It seemed times were very different, and maybe it was an alternate universe after all, because he spotted some other dragons on a training ground. Hogwarts, training dragon riders? What a strange thought!

"Intelligent magical dragons are rare. Why?" asked Harry, honestly kind of confused about this point. The dragons he spotted were all 'small', like him, too. They didn't seem very friendly, either, growling and snarling as they passed by.

"Because we never bred them for intelligence and tameness like muggles did," Taurus answered. "You must understand there are far fewer wizards than muggles. We could never have afforded, like they did, to have numerous several ton beasts each bonded to a full crew devoted to their care. Instead, we killed them off, as a threat to us, before we came to realize our mistake and that the muggles were beating us by a long shot in their taming. We've frantically tried to fix things in the last few years, but I'm afraid it's probably too late." Then he got a mischievous look that reminded him far too much of Sirius. "But perhaps you could help. You're one of the most intelligent dragons I've ever met, you would be a big boost to our stock."

Big boost, how-? Oh no! No! "I'm not going to be some breeding mare for you," Harry flatly refused, outraged at the very idea. He especially wasn't going to breed _tamer slaves _for them!

"Alright, alright!" Leo placated. "You don't have to. We'd just like it if you stuck around, helped us with Loxias, and maybe, IF you see a pretty female dragon you like, you could settle down with her if you wanted."

Hahaha... big fat _no never ever_. He didn't like how being a dragon seemed to warp his instincts, make him more bloodthirsty, even mute his attraction toward humans (he hadn't felt a twitch toward one romantically once his entire time here) but he wasn't so far gone he was suddenly going to decide breeding with another species while in captivity no less was a bright idea.

"Am I expected to come here, or stay here often?" Harry asked, eying the place. While he didn't mind visiting again, it was rather difficult to browse the shops when you were too big to fit in them anymore, and he imagined that having his time torn between two places would make things difficult with the muggles who would be wondering where he kept flying off to. "The muggles might accuse me of being a spy."

"Don't worry about that, we have plenty of experience drafting up fake official business for muggles to goggle over," Leo assured. "All we want is for you to periodically check in for missions and to report on their success, rest up if you need to or take healing from mediwizards if you get hit by spells, though I don't expect a dragon to suffer too badly from spellwork, and maybe socialize a bit with our dragons."

"Do we get paid?" asked Chuma very hesitantly, like he was afraid they'd curse him.

Taurus blinked, jumping a little like he'd entirely forgotten Chuma existed. "Ah, I suppose we must," he said scornfully.

"You'd better," Harry growled, feeling bad for Chuma's sake. He didn't really care about money much, it was more a respect issue to him. Dragons, he supposed, were very sensitive to status. Humans, too.

"Alright, we'll, ah, hand you what we know of Luxias," Leo's hand trembled a little as he extended papers toward Chuma. "You can read, right?"

"We can," Harry affirmed a little scornfully.

"There's a house for the both of you, over there," Leo pointed. It had a pen full of sheep, which was rather nice, but it occurred to him that they were quite obviously trying to tempt him away from the muggles. After all, they hadn't given him a house, or been so eager to offer him personally pay. "Read it, think the whole thing over."

Then the two wizards left. Harry sighed and, no longer being watched, decided to talk to Chuma honestly. "I suppose you are full of questions."

"A few, but in actuality I have something to confess," Chuma said, taking in a sharp breath. "I knew all along. I'm a squib, Harry."

_Woah. Wasn't expecting that. _Harry blinked, and, hiding behind the house and double-checking again they weren't being watched, shifted back into a man, then entered in the back door for a quick look around. "How in the world did you end up in the muggle world, then? If I were in the Wizarding world in a time where my kind of people are harrassed and looked down on outside of it, I'd do my absolute best to stay in it."

"Oh, but my people are oppressed here, Harry," Chuma said, and then at his look of confusion clarified: "Squibs, Harry. Blacks may be safe, as you say, but anyone nonmagical is not. I'm surprised you don't know this already."

Harry could slap himself. "Well, ugh, okay, fine. Chuma, I have something else to confess. Not only am I a wizard, but I'm a time traveler. Most slavery, except of house elves I guess, is illegal in my time."

The normally pretty calm Chuma looked taken back. "Time travel? That's serious business, Cap - I mean Harry."

"I didn't do it on purpose!" he exclaimed. "In fact, it's gotten me really worried. I want to do more about slavery, but I know that in the future, it's going to end anyway. I think I vaguely even remember something about Britain stopping the taking of slaves during the Napoleonic war, which is in its early stages right now. What if all I do is muck it up and make things worse? What if I accidentally make it permanent somehow by altering the future? Maybe it's best I just don't meddle and become a hermit somewhere."

Chuma's mouth opened, speechless, then closed. They both stood deep in thought for awhile.

"Harry," Chuma finally said. "Is everything really perfectly okay in your time? Is there no way that it could be better? If everyone was freed tomorrow, it wouldn't undo all the harm. all the beatings, all the murder. Why, imagine you owned nothing but the clothes on your back, and someone said to you, 'Hey, you are free now! Guess what? The only person who will hire you is your old master! Have fun!' would you say that everything had been fixed?"

"No," Harry admitted. He honestly had to admit he'd never thought any further than 'free the slaves'. He'd never thought about what would happen _after. _He'd always assumed unconsciously that after, everything would be just okay. "I guess racial violence and inequality even in my time never fully stopped. There were a whole bunch of riots about discrimination and white on black violence. I'm not sure white on black violence ever fully stopped, though it got a lot better; I don't think people get lynched anymore? I think? Hope, anyway." Harry really found himself wishing he'd paid more attention to history and the muggle world now. "My neighborhood was about as white as it got - but there were poorer neighborhoods that I remember with black people in them, so they didn't all just go back to Africa somehow. I think if they tried to move into our neighborhood my Aunt Petunia would have demanded Vernon move, she never liked anyone different." Oh, Merlin. He'd never really thought about it, but if many of them were poor, how many freed slaves ended up working for old slave masters again because they held all the jobs, like Chuma had suggested? The thought made him kind of sick.

"So, there's still a lot worth fighting for, right?"

Harry thought about it, and nodded his head. "I guess things could still be a lot better. And things could have changed sooner. Okay, I guess that's worth risking history for," he reasoned to himself. "So I don't have to be a total hermit."

"I'm glad," said Chuma. "I've grown fond of calling you my comrade."

Harry flushed. "Aww, thanks. That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in this timeline."

There was a knock on the door. With alarm, Harry slid out the window into the back yard and quickly shifted back into a dragon. What could they want now?

"Hello, my name is Mr. Potter," the newest wizard introduced himself to Chuma, as Harry eavesdropped. "Master Chuma, I want to see your dragon... Harry Potter."

_Oh, I'm an idiot, _Harry scolded himself. _I should never have assumed this was an alternate universe and used my real name as a bloody dragon! He can't possibly think a fire breathing dragon is related to him just for sharing a last name, can he? _And would it be so bad, if he did meet a new family member? Hadn't that been what he'd dreamed of for ages?

"Of course. And who is this?" Chuma asked. Oh, there was someone else? Harry got the urge to peek through the window, but resisted.

"Ah. That would be my slave, the Malfoy's squib."

"Nobbins is very thankful to master. Master is so kind to Nobbins, agreeing to keepsies him rather than kill wretched poor Nobbins outright for being a stain on wizard kind," a voice very like some bizarre parody of Draco's sounded. If Draco had somehow been turned into a house elf and lost all dignity over night.

Oh Merlin.

Oh _Merlin._

His ancestor was a slave owner!

.../

* * *

><p><span>cliffhanger note<span>: oh come on. Pureblood wizards find muggles and squibs sub-human, do you expect me to say they never took the opportunity to enslave any of them?

and I know some of you are thinking 'but light wizarding families would neveeer enslave someone' hahahahaha you do know even 'good' people have been slave owners, right? Just look at how much everyone doesn't care about house elves. Next chapter will probably finally get on to 'more cheerful' war scenes. I'm sorry how terrible and short this chapter is, really, I just kind of wanted to get it done with.

I probably barely have any readers now after such a long time, but... I just want to speak out against the horrors that are going on right now in the U.S (Britain isn't saintly either, but as far as I know they aren't currently experiencing the same level of violence). **More** **than five** black churches have been attacked and burned down to the ground in a recent spat on violence, certain media outlets are trying to claim it's not racial just 'an attack on Christianity' even when attackers outright say they hate blacks and felt 'hesitant because the black churchgoers were just so nice' but still shot them anyway. Small children were run over in a car chase when police refused to stop chasing a suspect that wasn't even armed. A black woman got arrested for taking down the confederate flag (and a white supremacist rally had a black man put it up again). Over 300 people have died this year from police violence, **at a rate of nearly 1 black person killed per day, about 1 in 5 completely unarmed**. It isn't just black people getting killed by police, but blacks are being killed** twice as often**. They are also more likely to get shot if they are unarmed: 37% for POC versus 12% for whites. And, personally (although this should not make a difference to any sane human being, because #BlackLivesMatter), may I also add as someone who nearly had their little sister die because of racial white-on-black violence that** it isn't just black people who end up in the crossfire when some maniac decides to go after blacks**- if you happen to be nearby and you're white, you can die from that bullshit too. Fire and bullets don't care what race you are.

The plight of trans black women is worst: they have higher rates of being murdered (by anyone, not just police) than any group in the country.


End file.
